Remember That Time
by AMKelley
Summary: Jack and Paul reminisce about the first time they got drunk together while getting drunk for the last time before Jack moves away. Things are left unsaid and history repeats itself.
"I can't believe you're gonna leave me here _all_ alone," Paul bemoans, feigning hurt as he contemplates whether he should take another swig of alcohol or not. "Awfully selfish of you."

"Quit being such a martyr," Jack sighs, snatching the mostly empty bottle out of Paul's hand. "It makes you age faster."

Paul leers over at Jack, who is sitting next him on the sofa, squinting his eyes as he watches Jack wrap his lips around the rim of the bottle to take a hefty drink. It might be the alcohol, but Paul lets his gaze fix on Jack's outstretched neck, relishing the way Jack's adam's apple undulates back and forth with each swallow. Paul always found that the simplest and tiniest things about Jack were the most beautiful… but obviously in a way that best friends appreciate each other's attractiveness.

"You still got Will to keep you plenty of company," Jack points out with a pinched expression.

Most likely the burn from the alcohol, Paul supposes.

"Is that what I am to you?" Paul inquires with a slight slur, stealing the bottle back from Jack. "A hand-me-down?"

"Shut up," Jack rebukes with a lilt of good-natured humor. Jack shoves playfully against Paul's shoulder, coaxing a smile out of him. "You're such a drama queen when you start drinking."

"How am I supposed to act?" Paul questions, raising a brow at his friend. "You're leaving me."

"Well, you could stop whining and start by…" Jack trails off to raise the bottle up to Paul's mouth, beckoning him to drink "...loosening up a little."

Paul lets Jack nurse him with the bitter liquid, grabbing Jack by the wrist only when he's had enough. Paul sputters slightly, not missing the way Jack moves closer to him on the sofa, and wipes his lips with the back of his hand. Paul's hand lingers on Jack's wrist as he takes a moment to look over at his friend with suspicion.

"Are you trying to seduce me by getting me drunk, Mr. Joyce?" Paul teases as he attempts to nudge Jack with his shoulder, but doubles over on him instead, answering his own question in the process.

"What gave me away?" Jack replies with wistful sarcasm, looking down at Paul who is now laying his head in his lap.

"The hard on that's poking me in the back of the head right now," Paul retorts, letting the alcohol inhibit his natural reflex to toss out a comeback.

"Don't flatter yourself. That's my wallet," Jack deadpans, rolling his eyes.

"Oh, so that's why it feels so small," Paul jests, earning him a playful slap to his chest.

"I'm not sure if you're insulting the size of my wallet or genuinely curious about the actual size of my dick," Jack shoots back, looking down at Paul with a knowing gaze.

"Shut up…" Paul gushes, blushing a little.

Jack swipes the bottle away from Paul once again and pulls another drink from it, letting his free hand drop down to thread it through Paul's hair proactively. Paul sighs at the contact, his senses becoming more amplified with the help of the alcohol. Something about being this close to Jack and being pet by him so unabashedly makes Paul want to just curl up in a ball and stay in Jack's lap forever.

They stay like this for awhile in blissful silence. Paul gets more situated in Jack's lap as the latter rakes his blunt nails across Paul's scalp in a mesmerizing pattern that lulls the man into a drunken state of tranquility. Paul could fall asleep like this if it weren't for the fact that this was the last time he was going to see Jack for who knows how long.

It's a thought he refuses to acknowledge, so he just cherishes the simplicity of this moment instead. There are so many things left unsaid between them and right now Paul is blowing it by remaining silent and indulging in the affection Jack has no shame in pampering him with. He feels like an absolute cat with the way Jack massages his scalp and rub his stomach in a circular motion.

Paul lets his eyes drift close and he stretches languidly, sighing in content. Jack peers down at Paul, smoothing a hand through the man's hair, and studies the expression that graces his face. Jack doesn't think he's ever seen Paul so _at peace_. It's almost calming in a way, come to think of it. Like Paul's blissful vibes are rubbing off on him. Jack is about to close his eyes when he hears Paul chuckle below him.

"What's so funny?" Jack muses, tilting his head down at Paul.

"Remember that time I got you drunk? The very first time?" Paul mentions, keeping his eyes closed as a wide grin spreads across his face.

"Yeah," Jack concurs with a soft chuckle. "And I threw up on you by accident?"

"Not before you kissed me," Paul adds, cracking an eye open up at Jack.

"I did not kiss you," Jack admonishes, heaving a sigh as he disentangles his hand from Paul's hair.

"Okay, not before you slobbered all over my face, then," Paul corrects, earning him another chastising smack to his chest.

" _You're_ the one who kissed _me_ ," Jack justifies, slurring as he does when the alcohol finally hits him hard.

"In your dreams maybe," Paul jeers and this time Jack nudges Paul out of his lap.

"Says the guy who thought I was actually sporting a stiffy for him," Jack counters.

"Hey, any guy would be flattered by that," Paul defends, getting a headrush as he sits up too fast and letting the alcohol take its full effect.

"Sounds more like you were living out a fantasy if you ask me," Jack teases.

Paul doesn't have the capacity to articulate his way out of that and resorts to plucking the mostly empty bottle off of the coffee table to occupy himself. Paul polishes off the rest of the alcohol with a sour expression and sets the bottle down on the table with a heavy thud as he miscalculates his trajectory.

"Can- Can I ask you somethin'?" Paul slurs, swaying slightly as he turns to face Jack on the couch. He doesn't wait for Jack to respond and goes on to ask, "Why did you throw up anyway? After we kissed?"

"It wasn't because of the kiss if that's what you think," Jack assures hastily, feeling nervous and making sure Paul doesn't assume the worst.

"Then why?" Paul presses, scooting closer and getting self-conscious for answers.

"Why do you think?" Jack laughs nervously, looking at his friend skeptically. "I was fifteen years old and drunk for the first time, Paul. It's almost mandatory to hurl."

Paul nods at this, trying to process this information through his foggy alcohol addled brain. He feels warmth wash over him in rolling waves, eliciting goosebumps all along his arms. He looks up at Jack, finding that those bright blue eyes are intently staring him down as if gauging his reaction.

"Did you enjoy it?" Paul ventures on a limb, keeping eye contact as best as he can when he sways back and forth.

"Honestly? I can't remember," Jack confesses with a noncommittal shrug. "It was years ago and I'm drunk."

"I could always _refresh_ your memory," Paul suggests, biting his lip for making such a bold offer.

"It would help me to make a proper assessment," Jack concurs, inching towards Paul and licking his lips.

Their knees graze each other and Paul has a hand creeping up one of Jack's thighs. Jack's pulse quickens and his cheeks heat up from confused arousal as Paul leans forward to place a sloppy kiss that just barely connects with Jack's lips. They let out a shared _mmph!_ as they collide ungracefully against each other, struggling just for a few seconds before Paul corrects his mistakes and kisses Jack properly. Well, as properly as a drunk man can.

What was meant to be a simple brushing of lips between two best friends turned into something else entirely when they got a little carried away. It started with Paul tentatively opening his mouth, granting Jack entry if he wanted it, and a tender groping of Jack's thigh. Paul rubs his hand up and down in a soothing motion that drifts awfully close to Jack's groin. Jack notices it, and he definitely enjoys it, but he's too drunk for his body to respond properly at the moment. Otherwise, he'd be sporting that aforementioned _stiffy_.

They fall into a somewhat coordinated, yet still sloppy, rhythm but it was soft and sweet nonetheless. They pant hotly in the space between them and lazily nip at each other's lips. Jack moans at particularly harsh grazing of teeth when Paul captures Jack's bottom lip between his teeth. It was as good as a drunken snog with your male friend could get and neither of them wanted it to end. Especially with the way Jack was making tiny little noises that fueled Paul.

But, as per usual, all good things must come to an end at some point.

They pull away, staring into each other's eyes for a long moment. Jack's cheeks are bright pink from a mixture of alcohol and arousal and Paul has to say, it's the most beautiful sight he's seen. Paul pecks his friend on the lips one last time before leaning in to rest their foreheads against one another.

Paul can practically feel the dumb smile radiating off of Jack right now and it drives him crazy, knowing that history had repeated itself and making his argument about who kissed who null and void.

"Don't say it…" Paul warns.

"Told you so," Jack pants without hesitation, grinning like an idiot as he lets out a breathless chuckle.

"Dick…"

"Maybe if you're extra nice," Jack comments, getting him an eyeroll.

"Shut up," Paul chides, smiling despite his best efforts.

The soft hum of Jack chuckling subsides and Paul's smile soon follows after, being replaced by a cold feeling of realization as the reality of the situation starts to set in once again. Paul frowns, knowing this will be the last time seeing Jack and that he's blowing it by not confessing the feelings he has for his best friend. He wants to tell Jack everything, hoping that it might make Jack reconsider staying for just a little while longer or possibly indefinitely. But he can't bring himself to say any of it.

So, he settles for nonchalance.

"I still can't believe you're leaving…"


End file.
